'Come hither, gently rowing, Come, bear me quickly o'er This stream so brightly flowing To yonder woodland shore. But vain were my endeavour 5 To pay thee, courteous guide; Row on, row on, for ever I'd have thee by my side. 'Good boatman, prithee haste thee, I seek my father-land.'-- 10 'Say, when I there have placed thee, Dare I demand thy hand?' 'A maiden's head can never So hard a point decide; Row on, row on, for ever 15 I'd have thee by my side.' The happy bridal over The wanderer ceased to roam, For, seated by her lover, The boat became her home. 20 And still they sang together As steering o'er the tide: 'Row on through wind and weather For ever by my side.' ? 1799. FOOTNOTES: [311:2] First published in _The Athenaeum_, October 29, 1831. First collected in _P. and D. W._, 1877-80. For the original ('Barcarolle de Marie') of François Antoine Eugène de Planard see Appendices of this edition. ON AN INFANT[312:1] WHICH DIED BEFORE BAPTISM 'Be, rather than be called, a child of God,' Death whispered! With assenting nod, Its head upon its mother's breast, The Baby bowed, without demur-- Of the kingdom of the Blest Possessor, not Inheritor. _April_ 8, 1799. FOOTNOTES: [312:1] First published in _P. W._, 1834. These lines were sent in a letter from Coleridge to his wife, dated Göttingen, April 6, 1799:--'Ah, my poor Berkeley!' [b. May 15, 1798, d. Feb. 10, 1799] he writes, 'A few weeks ago an Englishman desired me to write an epitaph on an infant who had died before its Christening. While I wrote it, my heart with a deep misgiving turned my thoughts homeward. "On an Infant", &c. It refers to the second question in the Church Catechism.' _Letters of S. T. C._ 1895, i. 287. LINENOTES: [1] called] _call'd_ MS. Letter, 1799. [3] its] the MS. letter, 1799. [4] bow'd and went without demur MS. Letter, 1799. SOMETHING CHILDISH, BUT VERY NATURAL[313:1] WRITTEN IN GERMANY If I had but two little wings And were a little feathery bird, To you I'd fly, my dear! But thoughts like these are idle things, And I stay here. 5 But in my sleep to you I fly: I'm always with you in my sleep! The world is all one's own. But then one wakes, and where am I? All, all alone. 10 Sleep stays not, though a monarch bids: So I love to wake ere break of day: For though my sleep be gone, Yet while 'tis dark, one shuts one's lids, And still dreams on. 15 _April_ 23, 1799. FOOTNOTES: